


Drabble by Dawn

by disfordinosaur



Category: Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disfordinosaur/pseuds/disfordinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Evil Dead related drabbles and one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Another Book of the Dead Makes Three (Ash and Annie)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.

Somewhere behind her, she can hear Ash cursing. He didn't have to come, and he knows that. But the stubborn fool insisted, stating that they didn't see nearly enough of each other ever since she ‘started two-timing him with dirt and dead-things.’

"You can go back to the campsite, you know!” Annie calls out over her shoulder. “There’s still about two hours of daylight left, and it’s only an hours walk from here.” She can practically feel his frustration taking over the space between them, and doesn't know if she should laugh or be equally as frustrated. Her research is _hers_ , not _theirs_ \- it’s the same as how she’s left the demon slaying to him, because it’s _his_.

It sounds like he’s beating up a vine behind her. Beating up a vine and loosing. “No - way. I’m not leaving you out here after dark with - god knows what, and that mouth-breather intern of yours being the only person close enough to do anything.”

"His name is Lawrence, and what you did was cruel."

"I didn't hear any complaints from the peanut gallery when it happened."

"You didn't hear anything because I was too busy staring daggers at your back, and I had an expedition to get to. Now hush.”

He grunts, and she detects a mutter of _slippery… dark_ , before silence falls.

Annie can feel a great weight leaving her shoulders as she continues her rock-filled trek. It’s replaced with a feeling of satisfaction. Having been close to a year since her last expedition, she can’t say she’s surprised. This one promised to be easier, the contents found meant to be less threatening to the world as a whole.

She waves her flashlight, signalling for Ash to stop. He does, his foot sinking into a puddle in the process.

"Aurgh! Why did only pack the one freakin’ flashlight again?!”

"It’s just a little water in your socks. Look—" Annie shines her flashlight ahead, touching upon a jagged piece of stone, smooth like polished-marble on top. "The _Barden Thedol _,” she breathes, before adding. “Or at least pieces of it, anyway.”__

__"Uh-huh… And I’m standing here with slowly forming trench-foot for it because…?" Ash says, huffing when she doesn't answer. "You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re interested in things, kid.” He plods forward, hand reaching out to nudge at her waist “What’s it _for_?”_ _

__Finally, she looks his way. Even with the dim-light of the flashlight, he can see her eyes glowing. “No one knows,” Annie says. “It’s remained a mystery for nearly two-thousand years, ever since it was hidden away. No one even known what language it’s written in.”_ _

__A frown touches Ash’s features. His response comes out flat. “Sounds… really fun. At least tell me you know how to translate this new ancient language.”_ _

__“I’ll let you know as soon as I see it.” Slowly, Annie moves forward, eyes drinking in the faded script of the text before her. Gloved hands gingerly move forward, her fingers gently curling around the remarkably heavy weight of such a light looking book._ _

__Her thumb glides over one symbol as Ash comes up behind her. His skepticism nearly has a physical weight to it._ _

__A low but steady hum seems to fill the air around them. Annie’s eyes go wide. She backs off, still clutching the book and stumbling, colliding with Ash’s chest in the process. He steadies her, quirking an eyebrow just as the bulb flickers, threatening death at any moment._ _

__“Problem?”_ _

__“Just- shut up and run.”_ _


	2. Untitled (Sheila)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.

She can tell with the way he looks her way at times, always when he thinks she wouldn't notice. He believes she is not happy.

This could not be further from the truth. Uncomfortable at times, yes. But that is simply because of the sheer oddities of this time-period he calls home.

She can see it in his eyes whenever she smiles his way. Seeds of doubt have been planted in those dark eyes. Worry and doubt. He worries for her and her happiness, and it often feels as though her heart wishes to weep at the sensation. To have him worry for her, when he is the one always rushing off to quarrel with creatures from Hell!

"Foolish man," Sheila murmurs, fond and exasperated and tired. She spares a glance down at the babe snuggled at her breast, lovingly running an index finger across the curve of one smooth round cheek. He snuffles in his sleep, close to the same noises his father makes whenever he dreams pleasant dreams.

Oh yes, she is happy. Indescribably so. Perhaps that is why he finds it so difficult to understand. He believes that whenever he allows himself to be happy, it will be cruelly snatched away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."_ — Robert A. Heinlein.


	3. Oh, Sister I Will Help You Out (Linda and Cheryl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linda heads to check up on Cheryl after they listen to that questionable tape the boys dug up from the basement...

Shelly takes one look into the room, and shakes her head. She darts a glance back at Linda, and her gaze is quite clear: _This one's gonna be fun._

Linda quietly assures that she'll handle it, urging her fellow Spartan to return to help the boys in the front room. Chances were the two were finding new and exciting ways to collect the shattered glass with their bare hands (and Ash could honestly be the biggest baby when he got hurt).

She finds Cheryl in the only bedroom leftover, curled up in the far corner of the unmade bed. Even from the doorway, Linda can see how tense the younger woman is; white knuckles look ready to pop from the way they clutch at her knees, and her mouth – the only part of her face that isn't currently swathed in shadows – is pressed into one thin, unhappy line.

“Go away.”

Linda sighs, soft enough to easily be mistaken for the wind that practically roars outside. Honestly, it's a wonder how this whole cabin is even still _standing_ , given the state of things. “Scott was just being dumb, Cheryl,” she says. “You know how he is. He thinks messing with people is one of the funniest things on the planet. I'm sure--”

“Go. _Away._ ”

Linda stops talking. She takes two, maybe three steps into the small room. Old floorboards groan beneath her feet – a sure sign of warning. Ignoring it, and Cheryl's words, pretty pink lips part, several bursts of consoling phrases dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Cheryl's eyes flash in the darkness. A lighter shade of brown than her brother's, though both shared a similar attractive quality that Linda could not name. “Get _OUT OF HERE!_ ” she screams, nearly lunging off of the bed. “GET _OUT_. I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP, YOU LITTLE GOODY TWO SHOES. AND I DON'T NEED YOU TELLING ME THINGS THAT I ALREADY KNOW!”

Shocked, Linda skitters back, similar to the reaction of one who faced a rabid animal. She has dealt with Cheryl and the highs and lows of her temperament for the past three years now, and knows not to take everything she utters to heart. Still, that does not stop _hurt_ from flaring, sharp and quick in the pit of her stomach.

She watches as the girl collapses back onto the bed, face down into her rucksack, her whole body quivering. Linda retreats till her hand meets the cool brass of the doorknob; and as quietly as she could, shuts the door behind her. Silently, she promises to return to check on the girl who she viewed as a younger sister later. She was, after all, the one who encouraged Ash to bring his sister along on this trip, not even thinking how miserable it would be for Cheryl. Two couples and one single -- honestly, what on earth was she thinking?

It's not much, but it's the least that can be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is hardly the best, but I've got so many thoughts about the relationship between Linda and Cheryl that I had to get _something_ out.


	4. Ash/Annie

No, he is _not_ jealous. Ash Williams doesn't _do_ jealous. Not in this lifetime, or the next.

...Still. He watches as Annie absentmindedly scratches behind one of those furry ginger ears, sees the smugness in that little furry face, and he can't help but feel... _irritated_ , at least. Irritated is a far cry from jealous in his books.

“I seem to remember the rescue effort involving _two_ folks, fuzzball.” He states aloud. “I mean, a little appreciation here would be nice.”

Neither animal nor archaeologist seem the least bit fazed by his words. Safe to say, that _hurts_. He sits up a little straighter, feeling several of the knots in his back complain at the suddenness, and fixes the pair with a look.

Annie has a book about god knows what on one knee, and the cat on the other. Her glasses (he still can't believe she wears _glasses_ , and looks pretty damn cute in them too) are making the steady slip down the bridge of her nose, and she doesn't seem the least bit bothered with pushing them back up – a sure sign of how deep she is in her distraction.

He coughs.

Her brow furrows, and she flips a page.

He coughs again. The cat flicks it's ears at him, and he grits his teeth.

“If you're going to keep coughing like that, you might want to start investing in some cough drops.” She looks up at him briefly as she pushes her specs back up her nose. “And have you considered that maybe the reason why the cat doesn't want to go near you is because you haven't freshened up since you got home? I mean, that doesn't exactly look or smell like ketchup on your shirt.”

“Didn't seem to have a problem with it when I fished the little sucker out of death's greasy grip.” He pauses, scratching at his chin, before glancing down to consider the stains that decorate his clothing. With a shrug, he makes good use of his flesh hand to start popping buttons. “Have you even given the scrap a name yet, or am I just gonna have to start fishing extra deep in my arsenal?” As he speaks, one eye remains on Annie, looking for any signs of interest in the little show that she's getting.

There's none. She taps her pencil against her lips, thoughtfully considering the words before her. “I was thinking... Frank.”

“Frank, huh? Sounds... boring and normal. Especially for you.” He knows why, though. Just like he knows why there's that little feeling of relief about the cat not wanting anywhere near him – less easy to get attached, to feel remorse just in case the little puffball would one day be forced to get one between the eyes.

“I knew you'd like it.” Annie shifts, setting the book aside, and pushing her glasses to the top of her head. Newly-dubbed Frank seems to get the message, hopping off her lap without a complaint; where he wanders, Ash cannot say. Plus, he's not too sure he cares, watching as Annie stands, stretches, wanders towards him... and moves right past him.

Offence rears it's head. He turns, watching as she moves out of their shared room, wearing her most comfortable dig shorts and a shirt that's too big – probably one of his, though he can't be too sure; it looks too _clean_. One of her socks is rolled down, and her hair is pulled back in a haphazard bun. Moments like these, the ones when she isn't little miss prep, are some of his favorites, just because they don't happen as often as they should.

Sensing his gaze, Annie calls out over her shoulder: “If the cat isn't going near you, neither am I. I trust his judgement.”

“What about my judgement?”

“You were the one who just spent the past ten minutes getting _jealous_ over a cat, Ash.”

Something brushes against his leg. He looks down. Frank peers up at him innocently. _Smug._

“You little bastard.”

Frank purrs in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect more of Frank.


	5. Never Make A Companion Equal To A Brother (Ash and Cheryl)

He's holding his breath, fist poised and ready to knock. Having just returned from a ten-hour shift, it's safe to bet that Ash would love nothing more than a hop in the shower, scarf down some gulps of whatever Mom prepped for dinner, and take a nice long nap. It's Linda's supportive words that echo through his mind that keep him from doing so right away, as Cheryl's artful words of warning dance before his eyes.

_Ne pas entrer sans autorisation!_

Directly below, a post-it note is pasted:

_For those who care nothing about class (Ashley), that means stay out._

Grumbling, he rips the no doubt meant to be offensive yellow paper away, and stuffs it in his pocket to toss later. Without bothering to knock, Ash pushes the door open.

Cheryl is seated Indian-style on her perfectly made bed, sketchpad balanced on her knees, and a piece of charcoal in her hand. Brows raise at the sight of her brother, but mostly, she goes on ignoring him, continuing to shade whatever the hell she's got on her page.

“And here I thought Linda was helping improve your manners, no hindering them.” she commented idly, her pencil forming an arc shape onto the pad.

A flash of indignation passes through, and for a minute, he's tempted to call Linda's whole crazy idea off. His sister's comments about his girlfriend are nothing new -- though they certainly have gotten less bitchy over time, and Linda has never given any indication to have taken any of them to heart.

“I'll have you know that I've got perfectly decent manners falling out of my butt,” he shoots back, pushing aside the crumpled papers that litter the edge of her mattress.

Cheryl rolls her eyes. “What do you want, Ashley?”

“What, a guy can't visit his sister directly after work just for the hell of it?”

“No,” she sounds disgusted. Or is it disbelief? “What do you want, Ashley?” As she repeats, Cheryl stretches her legs out, slipper-clad feet meeting his hip, applying light pressure there. Simply put, he has a time-limit.

He let's out a breath through his nose, bringing up a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “Uh, listen. I know that you can't go where you wanted for Spring Break this year—” He's pretty sure it's Paris (and judging by the way Cheryl's expression hardens, he _knows_ it is). “And, well, you know that me and Linda and... We're heading up to the Tennessee mountains for a couple of days, and there's still enough room in the Classic to fit one more—”

“You're inviting me to go on vacation with you?” Cheryl interrupts. 

He can feel himself color. “No, I'm inviting your teddy bear.”

She flings her stick of charcoal at him; it smacks against the sleeve of his powder-blue work smock, and he knows that she's interested. “Is Scott going to be there?” The question is asked idly, but Ash can sense the wariness in her tone. He himself tenses; he treated those weird few months when his best friend and his kid sister dated a _lot_ cooler than most other guys in his position would, and did his damnedest not to pick sides during the messy fallout.

“...Yeah,” he says slowly. “Scotty actually found the joint where we'll be staying. His cousin told him about it.”

“Hmm. Sounds utterly reliable.” Cheryl replies, dryer than the Sahara. But he can tell her interest has not lessened, and he wonders how proud Linda will be of him for this selfless act.

“Just... try and have fun, wont you?” Ash sighs. “Sure it's not as fancy as Paris, but I'm sure if we looked hard enough we could find you some snails to eat.”

Cheryl wallops him in the face with her pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Scott and Cheryl dating belongs entirely to the wonderful Kat (annnieknowby.tumblr.com/)


End file.
